Raphael Read Online Free
believe that, once dead, he would go back to using crutches he had left behind in life.
And more importantly, this Damiano shape stood now beneath her, in the wineshop doorway, and was unaware of her very presence. Even in his simple days, Damiano would have known Saara was near.
The horse, who saw something different from that which Saara saw, and from that which Gaspare saw from within the wineshop (with all the hair on the back of his neck rising in protest), made no more sound, but turned his elegant tail and disappeared down the grassy alley.
The apparition carried a lute, Saara saw now, leaning her sleek dove head over the ledge of stone where she sat. It was a marvelously ornate lute: Gaspareâs own lute, in fact. That made quite a paradox, as even now Saara heard the original of this spectral lute thumped clumsily upon the top of the trestle table within.
âDelstrego!â gasped the youth, in tones of mixed joy and terror.
This is how Gaspare is going to get himself into trouble, said Saara to herself, as she launched out from the eaves of the building.
Chapter 2
The Devil had his plans. He would work upon the unfortunate Gaspare with his twin needles of guilt and pride. The youth would provide no challenge, certainly, for his haughty and sullen tempers stood out like so many hooks on which the Devil could latch. Raise that hauteur, ruffle that temper, and there Gaspare would be, trussed like Sundayâs goose. Luciferâs greatest worry so far had been that he would be required to play the lute as Delstrego had, which was a thing he could not do, having abjured music along with the heavenly choir.
It was not that the prize in this game was Gaspareâs little soul; such as Gaspare was merely coarse bread and dry. But his peril was sure to bring Raphael fluttering in, for the angel watched his proteges like a hawk.
So Lucifer was understandably surprised to find himself under the assault of not a hawklike angel, but a small dove, round of keelâat the moment of his subtle planâs unfolding. With not the least peep of warning, this avian flew at his man-shape and pecked it smartingly under the eye. Lucifer flinched away from it, displaying very natural confusion and annoyance.
The greatest of angels had no interest in the animal kingdom. The worldâs furred, feathered, or finny creatures were as much beneath his peculiar temptations as the denizens of Tir Na nOg were beyond them. He was not even very knowing about animal behavior. Did this miserable atom think that Lucifer, wingless as he appeared in his present form, was yet a sort of greater bird and therefore a competitor? Did it have a nest nearby? He cast a glance around him, as the dove swooped to the ground at his feet.
Even as Lucifer perceived the obvious truth, that the creature was not a bird at all but a human shape-changer, it had swollen to its full status: that of a woman almost as tall as he stood in his Delstrego form.
âLiar!â she shrilled in his ear. âFilthy liar!â Curiously enough, she spoke a barbaric tongue of the far north.
Lucifer had no idea what a Lapp would be doing in a Piedmont village by the Lombardy border. He was further piqued to discover he didnât recognize this woman at all. Perhaps, he considered momentarily, he hadnât given the tribal primitives of the earth their share of his attention.
In certain ways they were so much like the beasts.
And he reacted to this unknown creature in the way in which he usually reacted to anything which frustrated him or set back his plans. He turned color and hissed at her, and prepared to strike her to cinders where she stood.
But, worse luck, this was not merely a shape-changer, but one of those unspeakable Lappish singing witches.
He felt her puerile sing-song cutting through his disguise like a razor through hide. As shape fell away, he was obliged to grope for wyvern form to cover his nakedness. He shot at the woman a blast
And more importantly, this Damiano shape stood now beneath her, in the wineshop doorway, and was unaware of her very presence. Even in his simple days, Damiano would have known Saara was near.
The horse, who saw something different from that which Saara saw, and from that which Gaspare saw from within the wineshop (with all the hair on the back of his neck rising in protest), made no more sound, but turned his elegant tail and disappeared down the grassy alley.
The apparition carried a lute, Saara saw now, leaning her sleek dove head over the ledge of stone where she sat. It was a marvelously ornate lute: Gaspareâs own lute, in fact. That made quite a paradox, as even now Saara heard the original of this spectral lute thumped clumsily upon the top of the trestle table within.
âDelstrego!â gasped the youth, in tones of mixed joy and terror.
This is how Gaspare is going to get himself into trouble, said Saara to herself, as she launched out from the eaves of the building.
Chapter 2
The Devil had his plans. He would work upon the unfortunate Gaspare with his twin needles of guilt and pride. The youth would provide no challenge, certainly, for his haughty and sullen tempers stood out like so many hooks on which the Devil could latch. Raise that hauteur, ruffle that temper, and there Gaspare would be, trussed like Sundayâs goose. Luciferâs greatest worry so far had been that he would be required to play the lute as Delstrego had, which was a thing he could not do, having abjured music along with the heavenly choir.
It was not that the prize in this game was Gaspareâs little soul; such as Gaspare was merely coarse bread and dry. But his peril was sure to bring Raphael fluttering in, for the angel watched his proteges like a hawk.
So Lucifer was understandably surprised to find himself under the assault of not a hawklike angel, but a small dove, round of keelâat the moment of his subtle planâs unfolding. With not the least peep of warning, this avian flew at his man-shape and pecked it smartingly under the eye. Lucifer flinched away from it, displaying very natural confusion and annoyance.
The greatest of angels had no interest in the animal kingdom. The worldâs furred, feathered, or finny creatures were as much beneath his peculiar temptations as the denizens of Tir Na nOg were beyond them. He was not even very knowing about animal behavior. Did this miserable atom think that Lucifer, wingless as he appeared in his present form, was yet a sort of greater bird and therefore a competitor? Did it have a nest nearby? He cast a glance around him, as the dove swooped to the ground at his feet.
Even as Lucifer perceived the obvious truth, that the creature was not a bird at all but a human shape-changer, it had swollen to its full status: that of a woman almost as tall as he stood in his Delstrego form.
âLiar!â she shrilled in his ear. âFilthy liar!â Curiously enough, she spoke a barbaric tongue of the far north.
Lucifer had no idea what a Lapp would be doing in a Piedmont village by the Lombardy border. He was further piqued to discover he didnât recognize this woman at all. Perhaps, he considered momentarily, he hadnât given the tribal primitives of the earth their share of his attention.
In certain ways they were so much like the beasts.
And he reacted to this unknown creature in the way in which he usually reacted to anything which frustrated him or set back his plans. He turned color and hissed at her, and prepared to strike her to cinders where she stood.
But, worse luck, this was not merely a shape-changer, but one of those unspeakable Lappish singing witches.
He felt her puerile sing-song cutting through his disguise like a razor through hide. As shape fell away, he was obliged to grope for wyvern form to cover his nakedness. He shot at the woman a blast
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